Happy Campers

Day 21: Although most of us don't enjoy being out in the cold and wet, the lichen population heartily approves our sudden switch from summer to winter. They perked up in a matter of days, going from crisp and fragile to soft and pliable in an astonishingly short period of time. Lichens are amazingly resilient, sometimes springing back to life from a state where they are dry enough to crumble into powder between your fingers. Many species have begun to fruit, their apothecia readily apparent. Here are examples from four of the genera common to my yard: Platismatia (aka Ragbag), a Cladonia species, Usnea and one of several Hypogymnias which grow in abundance on the cedar fence. Happy campers, these! They won't grumble about chilly nights and soggy moss-beds. They'll revel in them!

Entanglements

Day 21: First of all, let me say that I am here only because I hit the right moment. Our internet service was partially knocked out by the power outages a few days ago, and service has been intermittent when it was working at all. It is supposed to be fully restored by 8 PM tomorrow, but that's the second time the estimated repair has been pushed out to the following day. In any event, I took advantage of the lull and a few breaks in the weather to meander around the yard checking on lichens. The ancient cedar post at the end of the raspberry patch was particularly lush with Cladonias, so entwined and entangled that I can't tell where one species leaves off and another begins. Perhaps some lichens colonize others? Many contain the same algae, so perhaps their societies compete or cooperate? Suffice to say that this particular cedar post provides suitable habitat and supports a population as dense as that in the busiest human cities.

To A Better Year

Day 79: It goes without saying that most of us are glad to see the back of 2020, but the new year opens with a number of situations which could send us from bad to worse. I learned long ago not to utter the words, "What else could possibly go wrong?" because as swiftly as I spoke them, the universe invariably would take up the challenge and give me a demonstration. There is no doubt in my mind that it could be worse, far worse, but as surely as lichens and mosses weather droughts, we have it in us to pull through if we follow their examples of cooperation and tenacity. As a practicing shaman, I draw many life-lessons from Nature. Sometimes she is a cryptic instructor; leading, but leaving her pupil to draw conclusions independent of her tutelage. Or sometimes she is less than patient, and gives a brisk swat upside the head when she feels it's merited. Yet the lesson of the lichen is clear: without the cooperative venture of three partners (fungus, alga and yeast), the community of these remarkable structures would fail. Thus, dear readers, my wish for you in the coming year is that you will learn to live as the lichens do, and that Nature will repay you in kind for your gentle treatment of her creatures.

Pixie Cups

Day 100: While lichens have adapted to optimize ambient moisture, Cladonias such as this one demonstrate a wide variety to strategies for the task. Starting at the base, the overlapping, ruffled squamules (scales) not only gather moisture but direct it to the heart of the colony. The podetia (stalks) are covered in even finer, granular squamules, maximizing the surface area. Even minor amounts of dew/mist are husbanded, reducing the evaporation rate. Characteristic of the genus, the tips of many Cladonias are bowl-shaped, another adaptation for conservation of moisture. These structures give the lichens their common appellation of "Pixie Cups."

Lichen The Attitude

Day 82: More than any other lichens, Cladonias have attitude. I found this particularly opinionated one while prowling through snow and blowdown in search of Fringed Kidneys in an area where they are known to occur. Although I failed to find the Kidneys, my exploration was not entirely an anatomical bust. I also found Bloody Heart, although its core showed very little of the signature colouration which gives it its common name. Later in the day and in a different location, I also discovered a veritable forest of the lacy Platismatia herrei, but that's a subject for another post.

Fence Gardening

Day 21: I take as much pleasure in what grows in my garden naturally as I do in the species I carefully cultivate. My rail fence is a wonderland of lichen forms, from squamous and cupped Cladonias to thready Usneas and puffy Hypogymias. They are colourful as well as diverse in shape and size, ranging from lime green through grey-green or sometimes tinted with a blush of orange or pink. The fruiting bodies (apothecia) of the Cladonias dot the colonies with specks of brown and brilliant red, and one could imagine that the faerie folk were decorating for the holidays. A four inch by four inch section of rail may hold a forest of half a dozen species, each one as alien in appearance as the next. Take a closer look at lichens when you're on the trail. You may become as fascinated by them as I am.

Lichen Basics

Day 106: This is the type of dry reading you're likely to see on official NPS pages from here on out, but at least it's science.

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Those of us who live in the Pacific Northwest are fortunate to have a wide variety of lichen species in our forests. Although lichens appear in almost every geographic region of North America, the leafier types are more abundant on the northwest and northeast coasts. Many of them are mistakenly called "mosses," but in fact they are complex symbiotic organisms. One of the most exciting revelations in the field of lichenology occurred this year when a third component was identified in the classic "fungus/algae" pairing: yeast. Let's look more closely at some common PNW lichens and learn a little of the specialized terminology which describes them.

There are three basic types of lichen: foliose, fruticose and crustose. Foliose ("FOH-lee-ose") lichens are "leafy" (think "foliage"). Platismatia (upper left) is an excellent example. Fruticose ("FROO-ti-cose") lichens are bushy or shrubby, or have a three-dimensional structure which often includes round stalks topped by cups or knobs. The photo in the upper right shows an example of Cladonia, a classic fruticose family.

Sometimes, it is difficult to assign a lichen to a specific category. The lower left image shows a Hypogymnia. The Hypogymnias are classified as "foliose-fruticose." The last type of lichen is called crustose ("CRUST-ose"), and as you might guess, it forms a crust which adheres tightly to trees and rocks. Crustose lichens often exhibit small fruiting bodies such as those which appear on Ochrolechia (lower right).

They Dew It Well

Day 162: I had something a little different on my work schedule today: giving an introduction to lower forest zone plants to two young interns (rangers) from the Park's Education program and their immediate supervisor. Perforce, much of my discussion was about lichens, although I did cover the adaptations seen in both lichens and bryophytes with respect to being able to capture even the slightest moisture to good advantage. That said, these fine folk learned what it is to see the world through the Crow's Eye, and I doubt they'll ever look at a piece of bark or a mossy log in quite the same way again.

Tee Garden

Day 49: We all know that the game of golf originated in Scotland, right? And Scotland is very like the Pacific Northwest in climate, i.e., damp and rather grey. Although I don't know this for a fact, I would guess that it has an abundance of lichens, and surely among them you could find a number of representatives of the Cladonias. It's a whimsical thought to be sure, but imagine if you will a kilted clansman about to place his leathern ball on the green. His head turns. He's spotted a narrow stalk topped with a cup-shaped form of the exact size to hold the ball. History is made as our redoubtable Scot nestles his gamepiece into the bowl of a specimen of Cladonia fimbriata where it is held securely until he pelts it mightily with his blackthorn and sends it sailing into a gorse thicket, there to remain until the final days of Planet Earth.

I found the mother of all tee gardens on my Nisqually Land Trust beat today. I'd stopped by Ohop Valley to check on the trees we planted a few weeks ago and was delighted to see that a second crew had been in to place protective plastic sleeves around each one. A piece of rotten fence drew my attention, and when I looked up from the single specimen I had just photographed growing on its length, I noticed another rail, its sunward vertical side bearing hundreds of C. fimibriata podetia. I removed one single example to bring home in order to confirm my identification (inset shows the finely farinose soredia), and although it was spongy at the time I picked it, two hours later it had dried to the point that it felt wooden. It was still too flexible to be used as a golf tee but rigid enough to inspire speculation as to the origin of the device. Aye, an' 'tis not so unreasonable to think, eh?

Cladonias All The Way Down

Day 22: The signature phrase, "It's turtles all the way down" has been attributed to a number of different sources (Bertrand Russell or William James among others) and was popularized by none other than Stephen Hawking in more recent times. It refers to a bit of mythology (again ascribed to various cultures) in which the Earth is described as resting on the back of a huge turtle. The expression results from a confrontation between a cosmologist following his explanation of the nature of the Universe and a member of the audience who puts forth the legend as an alternate theory. When asked what supports the first turtle, the challenger asserts, "Another turtle." The cosmologist then responds, "But what does that turtle stand on?" The reply follows the legend exactly, "Another turtle, of course. It's turtles all the way down."

In the fascinating world of lichens, nothing proves the myth more visibly than the Cladonias. On close examination, it's not hard to find proof that it's Cladonias all the way down. (Cladonia grayi)

Exploring Strange New Worlds

Day 124: Lieutenant T'var made a note on her personal tricorder that the syntax of the Cladonian language was one of the most complex she had encountered during her tour of duty aboard the Chomsky. An expert in xenolinguistics, she had made one significant breakthrough to advance her analysis: the Cladonians were a symbiotic species, and subtle intonations from the secondary component, barely perceptible even to her keen Vulcan ears, had the ability to change a positive statement to a negative. That one fact had culminated in a number of substantial misunderstandings following a peaceful first contact, and relations with the ship's crew had become strained over the next few months despite the Cladonians' gentle nature. A colleague had remarked that the Cladonians were "inclined to listen, but too closely," often reading hidden meanings into a phrase voiced by a human with a stuffy nose or a raspy throat. However, with T'var's insight into the nuances of the native language, a foundation for communication had been laid even though consistent translation was proving difficult to achieve.

Strange Planet

Day 120: You have only to walk through the forest to experience parallel universes and alien civilizations. Bizarrely shaped creatures occupy every rotting stump and march across the duff in vast armies. If you think giraffes and octopi are odd, bend down and make the acquaintance of a family of bryophytes or better yet, a colony of Cladonia lichens like those shown here. Like the other creatures which populate the Earth, these fascinating plants have evolved their peculiar structures to adapt to their environments in a manner which allows them to take advantage of moisture and nutrients. Notice how the sporophyte (seed head) holds a water drop. Observe the scales of the lichen and consider how they can pull moisture from the atmosphere by presenting more surface area in a small space. Truly, there are wonders at our feet!